Today is not the day to spend celebrating the things we love about living in this country. To continue doing so is an insult to those who were this land's custodians for 60,000 years before Her Maj saw fit to steal it like a criminal out from under their feet.
One of my ancestors was transported here for stealing, too - food, to feed her starving siblings. Her "criminal" act brought her here, which is how I now call this land my home. I love this land. It's not "mine" as far as ancestral lines go, but it's a little bit mine underneath my feet in the only way I want it to be mine ~ not by ownership and titles and deeds all written in flouncy, crappy, obfuscating English. It's mine in the way that I connect to it. I fancy, in my more whimsical moments, to be able to feel the songlines that once were its unbroken map. I love the music, but I certainly don't know how to read that particular musical score.
I have an idea afoot, a personal and professional idea that's been swilling around in my mind and chest for five years in one form or another. It's about creating a space that uses creativity, bodywork, and awesome intellect to explore the possibilities of how to do this life thing in the future, and of doing it in a way that empowers us to take charge of ourselves, to grow wisdom and care for the earth and ourselves, instead of living under this creatively shity drudge and slavery to the visionless and nasty paradigms of those who have been in power too long without being kept in line.
Or something along those lines, anyway. I'm still trying to formulate what it's about.
It's not without some irony that I note that except for wages, the most expensive component by far of this proposed enterprise will be that of leasing land. Land which was originally fleeced from others. Costing nothing to steal.